


Every Day Was Different And Every Day Was the Same

by A_Little_Boosh_Maid



Category: The Good Place (TV), The Mighty Boosh (TV), The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Heaven, Constant changes in tense, Everyone is Dead, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Fluff, Heaven is And/Also, Heaven is Not Either/Or, Love never dies, Multi, No Smut, Soulmates, Timey-Wimey, barely any plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25521826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Little_Boosh_Maid/pseuds/A_Little_Boosh_Maid
Summary: Richardnoelchris asked on Tumblr for recommendations of fluffy Noelian fics with no smut. For some reason, my brain registered this as "Please WRITE ME a fluffy Noelian fic with no smut". By the time I realised my mistake, I was 3/4 finished. Anyway, as it is she and her twin's birthday, it's somehow just become a joint birthday present!This is a low-key crossover into "The Good Place", which you don't need to have watched to understand the story. I could only see myself doing an RPF in a fantasy world, and this is definitely a work of imagination.
Relationships: Julian Barratt/Julia Davis, Julian Barratt/Noel Fielding, Lliana Bird/Noel Fielding
Comments: 15
Kudos: 13





	Every Day Was Different And Every Day Was the Same

**Author's Note:**

  * For [richardnoelchris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/richardnoelchris/gifts), [un1c0rntea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/un1c0rntea/gifts).



> "If soulmates do exist, they’re not found. They’re made.” ~ The Good Place
> 
> "That’s what the Good Place really is — it’s not even a place, really. It’s just having enough time with the people you love.” ~ The Good Place
> 
> “Picture a wave in the ocean. You can see it, measure it, its height, the way the sunlight refracts when it passes through, and it’s there, and you can see it, you know what it is. It’s a wave. And then it crashes on the shore, and it’s gone. But the water is still there. The wave was just a different way for the water to be for a little while.” ~ The Good Place

Every day was different, and every day was the same.

Every morning they woke up in their little stone cottage. The brass bed was so large it took up most of the bedroom, and the bedroom was deliberately small so that the bed would seem even bigger. It was their entire world, that bed. It was continents of quilts and oceans of sheets. There was a blanket monster who lived at the bottom of the bed and ate their feet, and kamikaze pillows who protected them by hurling themselves at the monster.

“Good morning”, said Julian in his deep hoarse morning voice. His mouth grazed the nape of Noel's neck.

Noel gave a wriggle, and snuggled closer into Julian, raising his lips so Julian could bend down and kiss them. Sometimes gently, sometimes roughly. Every day was different. They made love, as they did every morning, their mind and bodies finding pleasure together. Every day was the same. They had come to realise that even cuddling together or holding each other was making love, that in fact it was impossible to connect on any level without encountering the kind of physical surrender and bliss which those words suggested.

Today was a lazy day.

(There were no days).

Many days were busy and eventful. Noel brushed and scrubbed the cottage until it sparkled. Julian chopped wood and made furniture in his workshop. Noel worked in the garden, taking delight in the flowers and ornamental shrubs, the fruits and vegetables that were the bounty of his harvest. Julian cooked, and Noel baked, or they ate out, or didn't bother about food – just grabbed whatever they liked when they were hungry.

There were many days that they wrote together, struggled to come up with the perfect line, the perfect joke, the perfect notes. They went on tour, they recorded album upon album, they wrote books and illustrated them, series after series of television shows went on. They worked with others, they always had done, but when it comes to the words, they always had to do it alone together. That was the only way it worked, and they only knew it worked when they made each other laugh. It was surprising really how little things had changed.

There were many more days spent with friends and family. Julian spent endless hours with Julia and the boys, Noel with Birdy and Dali. They had dinners, family holidays, and a million Christmases with their parents as often as they wanted to. Noel didn't think he would ever get tired of his mother hugging him. He could do it … forever, he was pretty sure. And new people joined the family, there were always new faces to express delight in, new friendships to be formed. More and more people to love, instead of less and less.

But today it was just Julian and Noel.

(There is no today).

They walked out of their cottage into a morning that was all blue and gold, down a green country lane and through a wooden gate covered in moss, with a rusty latch that always stuck when they tried to open it. They walked hand in hand through an October wood that was both magical and spooky, bright red leaves against mist, an autumnal crispness underfoot. Despite its calm beauty, there was a choking sense of excitement in the wood, the feeling that something strange was out there.

Noel gave a jittery gasping little laugh, and held on to Julian's coat like a child, scrunching its hem in his hand. “It's alright, I'll protect you”, said Julian, putting an arm around Noel. But when a twig snaps behind them, it is Julian who startles and grabs hold of Noel in a panic, until they both laugh. When they look around, they find the noise was made by a squirrel, which is somehow even funnier.

On the other side of the wood is a sandy path that leads down to a tiny beach just the right size for two people, a strip of golden sand hugged between two rocky headlands covered in little Mediterranean pines. Their warm clothes are gone, and they are naked now, for the sun beats down on them, a heat which burnishes but can never burn.

They run into the crystal clear water, and swim and play for what seems like hours. When they get tired, they sit in the shallows, Noel between Julian's legs, held by Julian's arms. The feel of the water against their naked skin, listening to the soft susurration of the sea. The tug of the waves, wanting to take them home.

When the sun begins to set, they walk along the coast. They are dry now, Noel in a long shirt that looks like a black and white mini dress, Julian in jeans and a navy button-up shirt. There is a long pier which stretches right out into the sea, and at the end of it they can just see a cafe or restaurant.

“What do you feel like?”, asks Julian.

It's a game they never get tired of.

“French”, says Noel, with great sureness. “How about you?”.

“Fish and chips”, says Julian with certitude. “With mushy peas and pickled onions. Wrapped in newspaper”.

They keep walking along the pier, watching the sun set over the water, trying not to look at the restaurant while they approach it. They let it shimmer on the edge of their vision. When they arrive, they find the most charming of Parisian cafes with little green tables outside to sit at, and boxes of red flowers at the windows which trail over the balcony railings. The name of the cafe is written in scrolled gold script: Ma Petite Frite.

There is only one table free, so they know it is theirs. It already has two steaming hot newspaper packages sitting on it, stuffed with the most delicious and unmistakably English fish and chips, complete with the sharp smell of vinegary pickled onions and little plastic containers of mushy peas. The newspapers are dated to somewhere in their childhoods.

“It's not what you wanted to eat”, Julian murmurs, taking a bite of battered fish.

Noel shrugs. “Wanted the atmosphere, more than anything else”. He sips the white wine that came with their meal. The sky turns midnight blue, and becomes scattered with stars. Noel thinks it's strange, or perhaps it's not, that even though they have done so much since they came here, met all their idols, and fulfilled almost every possible dream and fantasy, they mostly talk about the life they had before. Tiny details of an hour they once spent waiting for a train can keep them occupied all day. It seems necessary that they remember all of it. Not one moment can be lost or forgotten.

****************************************

That night, Noel and Julian attend the premiere of their _Mighty Boosh_ film.

(There are no nights).

The Cinema Miraculous is full to the brim with their friends, family, and fans. Noel and Julian make their way to the dais at the front of the room, hugging, kissing, and greeting people as they go. Julian smiles as he takes his microphone, his voice sounding loud and confident even in such a large room.

“Well, it's taken many lifetimes, but we've finally finished the film!”, he says with a wolfish chuckle. There is general laughter, and some ironic cheers from the back. “Who knew I would only be able to complete the score with the help of my granddaughter? Thank you, Alex”.

Alex stands up and gives a little bow while everyone claps. Before she died at the age of ninety-one, she had been a famous avant-garde composer.

“Do you think it's weird all the fans are still here?”, Julian whispers to Noel during the clapping.

“No, this is their place, too”, Noel insists. “The fans deserve to have the film after all this time”. And he stands up, and says into the microphone, “Thank you for believing in us. All of you!”. He glances lovingly down at Julian before waving to the fans at the back.

The after party feels as it might go on forever. There are so many friends to thank for their part in it. Noel remembers that at one point, he was sitting with an arm around Birdy and Dee, when he looked across and saw Julian in deep conversation with Julia. They both looked very serious, but when Julian realised Noel was watching, he raised his glass of champagne to him, and smiled.

It was late and the party was turning into an after-after party when Noel found himself squeezed up against Julian in a big group.

“Come for a walk with me”, Julian whispered in his ear, taking the opportunity to nibble his earlobe.

Noel feels a strange sense of dread as he and Julian leave the familiar streets of their town, and walk silently through the dark forest, Julian leading the way. It is just before dawn when they reach a park bench and sit down together, the forest pale and alien in the silvery light that comes before daybreak. Julian takes Noel's hand.

“It's time”, he says quietly.

“Are you sure?”, Noel says, his voice trembling.

“I know it more surely than I know my own name”, Julian assures him. “I've done everything I was born to achieve, and loads of extra stuff that I did for fun. I've known for a while now. Couldn't you tell there was something different about me?”.

“You _have_ seemed different”, Noel admitted. “More … calm. More … yourself. Does Julia know?”.

“Of course”, Julian says.

Noel's face crumples as he says tearfully, “But Ju, you _made_ me. How am I meant to go on without you?”.

Julian pulls Noel into a hug, his arms tight around him so Noel can feel his heart, inexplicably, beating.

“Noel, you are my friend, partner, and soulmate. We've been together for 4.2 Jeremy Bearimies, and spent who knows how long in the dot on the _i_. We've loved each other in all possible worlds, beyond time and space. But I didn't make you, and you don't need me to survive or succeed. You never did”.

Noel shivers himself closer into Julian as if trying to make them one person. “I'll always love you, even after you're gone”, he vows, tears on his eyelashes.

“I know”, Julian whispers. “And … I don't know how this works, but I'm pretty sure I'll still love you, no matter what happens”.

“How's that possible? You're going to be … a raindrop or something”, Noel says with a giggle, wiping his eyes.

“Don't you think we've loved each other in this place _more_ than we did on Earth?”, Julian asks. “Hasn't our love become … deeper, stronger, more generous, and more _real_ in this place? Maybe after I walk away from here, I'll love you _better_ than I do now. I'm sure I'll love you at a higher level”.

Noel doesn't say he would rather have Julian, here in his arms, for all eternity. He knows he has to let him go, because that is the last gift a soulmate can give. He offers Julian his lips, and although he has kissed Julian countless times, this kiss is the most passionate, the most pure, the most perfect of all.

And Julian walked away with that kiss on his lips, and disappeared through the trees without another word (for how can soulmates ever say goodbye to each other?). And that kiss became part of him, and he became part of everything. The wave returned to the ocean and crashed upon a distant shore, the sweetness of the kiss lingering on through the universe.

****************************************

Noel walked back alone through the forest, shedding some tears, although his heart felt lighter knowing that his soulmate had moved on and found a greater reality. By the time he got back to their town, the sun had come up, and all the birds were singing. He walked into the front gate of his little house, so bright and boldly colourful compared to the rose-covered white cottage he had shared with Julian.

“I'm home!”, he calls out, and in a moment Birdy has her arms around him, an especially tight hug as he kisses her good morning.

(There is no morning).

Dali has come to have breakfast with them, and there are more hugs, and much laughter as Dali shows them the pancakes she has made, cut into animal shapes, as if they are small children. Noel's studio is waiting for him, there is time enough to keep painting, and space enough in his heart to keep loving. Every day would be different. Every day would be the same.

(There is no time. There is no space).

One day it will be Noel's turn to walk into the depths of the forest and disappear through the trees, becoming a ray of light, part of the eternity of the universe. But not yet. Not yet.

(There is no eternity. There is no universe).


End file.
